


Three-Year Ache

by MelyndaR



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: Naomi frowned, admitting, “That’s a bit of an understatement, unfortunately. I’m afraid I got us pulled into a wormhole… that’s deposited us three years from our destination.”
Relationships: Naomi Wildman & Original Character(s), Naomi Wildman & Samantha Wildman, Tuvok & Naomi Wildman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Three-Year Ache

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for the past year and a half, since I first started getting into Trek, and I finally came up with an ending that I liked this week, so here it is!  
> This story, by the way, is not a part of my Don't Fear the Fall series.

“We’re so proud of you, you know,” Naomi’s mother gushed with a bright smile. “Only just an ensign, and already leading a mission!”

Naomi rolled her eyes modestly, all-too-aware of the other Star Fleet officers in the room – the people they’d both lived with aboard Voyager years ago. She was glad her mom was proud of her, but she was almost embarrassed by the fuss being made about her first away mission. “It’s little more than a training exercise for a couple of the science cadets, Mom – only a week-long research trip. I’m pretty much going as a precaution to oversee daily operations and the well-fare of the ship itself, and to be a… babysitter, if it’s needed for the other crew members. Of which there’s only three.”

“But from what I know of one of those crewmen, they may well need a babysitter,” Chakotay pointed out from where he was sitting further down the table. “I’ve worked in the past with Petty Officer DeLuca, back before he was demoted from ensign. He wasn’t typical Star Fleet material then, and I can only hope for the sake of the rest of your crew that his demotion was the dose of humility he needed to straighten out.”

Naomi shrugged. “I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but I’ve heard he’s still a hot-head. If things go according to plan, though, he’s going to be our helmsman, and probably locked alone on the bridge for the majority of the week. The cadets shouldn’t even have a reason to interact with him outside of the mess hall… or, what passes as our mess hall. It’s a glorified kitchen with a four-seater booth in it to eat at.”

“You’ve seen the ship you’ll be taking, then?” Admiral Janeway asked curiously.

Naomi nodded. “The other three are being shown the ship now, but since this reunion was scheduled for today, I was allowed to tour the ship yesterday. It’s basically a modified flyer. Really,” she aimed her gaze towards her mom. “It’s nothing to get excited about. I’m only in charge on paper, just because someone has to be, and I’m the senior-most officer going, so it makes sense.”

“Well,” Admiral Janeway paused. “I hope for your sake that it _doesn’t_ become ‘something to be excited about,’ and everything goes perfectly according to plan.”

“Don’t go borrowing trouble,” Paris advised.

“Yeah,” Naomi grinned at the admiral. “We’ll barely even have _time_ for something to go wrong, anyway.”

“You leave tomorrow, don’t you?” Admiral Janeway asked, to which Naomi nodded. “Would you mind, then,” the admiral asked. “If I stuck around for a couple of days, and saw you off? I know you say it’s a little mission, but it is your _first_ away mission as an ensign, and, well, you were at one point known as ‘ _our baby’_ aboard Voyager.”

Naomi laughed softly, not wanting to show just how touched she was at the idea, but she nodded. “I would like that very much.”

* * *

In the end, Naomi was happy to see that she wasn’t the only one with a send-off party as the crew boarded their ship, the _USS Bonita_. Both cadets were accompanied by their respective parents. Petty Officer DeLuca came unaccompanied, but Naomi more than made up for it when she was seen off by her parents, Admiral Janeway, Chakotay, B’Elanna, and Tom Paris.

A quiet air of excitement ran through the quartet as they broke out of orbit and into space.

“Course set for planet Zinte,” Petty Officer DeLuca announced to the three gathered with him on the narrow bridge.

Naomi nodded her acknowledgement from the chair she occupied at the small weapons station beside his navigation panel. Just like her own assignment here, the weapons panel was little more than a precaution for this mission.

When DeLuca relaxed back into his seat in a wordless signal that their metaphorical cruise was set for the time being, Naomi did the same. “So, now that we’re on our way, it occurs to me that I missed the introductions yesterday.”

DeLuca gave her a sideways look, asking, “Did your mission plan not include dossiers on the three of us. I got information on you.”

“And I did on all of you, too, but I thought introductions might be a nice icebreaker,” she replied evenly.

“In that case,” the female Ocampa said, “I am Cadet Saramaya. I’m training to be a medical and anthropological researcher at Star Fleet.”

Naomi smiled brightly at the young woman – the only other woman on the vessel – and was happy when the gesture was returned. “I’m Ensign Naomi Wildman. Engineering. I’ve been assigned to daily operations and maintenance about this ship during the mission.”

“I am Cadet Satel,” said the Vulcan aboard their ship. “I am studying to be a technical specialist.”

The trio turned expectantly to DeLuca, who made an impressive show of rolling his eyes as he said, “Petty Officer Chas DeLuca. This week, as you can see, I’m your helmsman.”

“Thank you for humoring me,” Naomi said a little drolly to him.

“When should we put our luggage away?” Saramaya asked. “And get settled into our quarters for the week?”

“Satel, Saramaya, and I can do that now,” Naomi answered, standing to her feet. Looking to Petty Officer DeLuca, she added, “And then I can come back and man the helm so that you can unpack?”

Petty Officer DeLuca nodded, so Naomi left the bridge alongside Satel and Saramaya, walking down a narrow hallway to the mess hall where they’d stashed their luggage in an out-of-the-way corner for their assent.

“Did you guys sort out whose room is whose yesterday?” Naomi asked, jerking her duffle bag and backpack from the bottom of the pile.

“No,” Saramaya answered. “We thought we’d give you a say, too.”

“Though Petty Officer DeLuca did request one of the rooms along the hall to the bridge,” Satel added.

“Smart thinking. With that in mind, I think I’ll take the other bedroom on the same hall.”

“Are you sure?” Saramaya asked. “The rooms on the second hall are much larger.”

“All the better to give you two workspaces for your research, right?”

A look flashed through Satel’s eyes that said he wanted to point out that a fourth of the ship was devoted to the research lab he and Saramaya would be using, but he didn’t say anything, and Naomi was content to slip into the quarters next to the mess hall – her home for the next week. The room was small, big enough for a double bed, a desk chair, and a desk that had couple small dresser drawers built into one side of it. Perfectly bland and gray and uniformly Star Fleet-issued. It wasn’t cozy, but Naomi was excited to be here for the week, to check her first away mission off of her to-do list.

She made quick work of hanging up the extra uniforms she’d been issued, putting her other clothes in the drawers, arranging her few personal items on her desk, and stowing her duffle bag and backpack beneath her bed. There was a spring in her step as she went to temporarily relieve Petty Officer DeLuca of his post.

* * *

When it came time for dinner, Naomi, as part of what encompassed “daily operations” with such a small crew, went into the research bay to find Satel and Saramaya sitting on opposite sides of the room, pouring over their studies. It was a two-day journey to Zinte, the planet they were set to do a three-day, in-depth analysis of with DeLuca accompanying Satel to the Zinte capital’s technological labs while Naomi went with Saramaya to their medical labs. Clearly, the cadets wanted to utilize the two days until arrival to catch up on even more of their studies.

“Do you guys want anything in particular for dinner?” Naomi asked.

“No, thank you,” Saramaya answered.

Satel, however, didn’t even bat an eyelash, his gaze still scanning the tablet screen that he was clearly absorbed in. “Satel?” Naomi asked, waiting until his gaze snapped up to hers.

“Sorry. Yes?”

“Do you want anything special for dinner?”

“No, thank you,” he parroted Saramaya’s response probably without meaning to.

Naomi ticked an eyebrow upward, checking, “You are both going to eat dinner, aren’t you?”

“Certainly, ensign,” Satel assured her.

“Good,” Naomi replied. “Give me about five minutes and then come into the mess hall, alright?”

Saramaya and Satel both nodded, so Naomi spun on her heel and headed to the mess hall, replicating three plates of simple grilled chicken and carrots. Satel and Saramaya came in, both with a tablet still in hand, and ate sitting across from one another in the booth, book in one hand and fork in the other. Smiling at their obvious concentration and thirst for knowledge – something she hoped she would never lose in herself even as she had to make room for other responsibilities – she took the third plate to the bridge.

“Your dinner,” she declared, extending the plate so that she was holding it in Petty Officer DeLuca’s line of sight.

“You can eat first,” he said dismissively, his gaze never leaving the navigation panel. “Then we can swap out.”

“That doesn’t seem quite proper if I’m taking the lead on this mission. Leaders should take care of their people first.”

The petty officer gave her an unimpressed look. “There’s only four of us on this ship. No need to take the chain of command _that_ seriously.”

“Maybe I just want to look after people in general, then?”

“If you want someone to look after, go look after the cadets – while you eat your dinner and I fly this ship. Come back when you’ve eaten, then I’ll make something for myself.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes at him, asking suspiciously, “If it’s that you don’t want to socialize over a meal, you can rest assured that Satel and Saramaya are absorbed in their books even while eating.”

“I’m sure that’ll make your dinner quieter,” he said, faking cheerfulness.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Naomi smiled winningly at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and sat down at the weapons panel to eat with her plate on her lap.

* * *

The next couple days were more of the same; Saramaya and Satel stayed in the research lab and worked on their studies, Petty Officer DeLuca stayed on the bridge and flew the ship, and Naomi looked after the cadets and the ship, and piloted whenever DeLuca needed to leave the bridge. It was, as Admiral Janeway had hoped, a completely boring trip to Zinte.

Naomi couldn’t say she’d exactly made friends with her crewmates over the past days, but she couldn’t help smiling as she walked with Saramaya around Zinte. The cadet came alive in the midst of a new place to explore, and she studied their medical equipment with a level of understanding that left Naomi impressed. Saramaya’s quietly excited, lively energy was infectious, and ultimately Naomi felt she enjoyed herself just as much as the Ocampa did.

When the women saw Satel and Petty Officer DeLuca in the halls at the end of each night – their two rooms were side by side – it was fairly clear that the men weren’t getting along as well as the women, but Naomi didn’t let it bother her. The petty officer, at least, had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want her interfering in his affairs, so she didn’t, but she could easily imagine that Petty Officer DeLuca’s fiery personality wasn’t a fantastic offset to Cadet Satel’s far more… unflappable Vulcan nature. Probably Star Fleet officials had hoped Satel would rub off on DeLuca, but Naomi was pretty sure that wasn’t what was happening.

In any case, the four of them made it back aboard the _Bonita_ without any incidents. All four had added entries to their research logs – not something Naomi had expected to hear DeLuca had continued after graduating from the Academy – and they had added some small souvenirs to the storage area.

While eating their dinner together during their first night back aboard the _Bonita_ , Satel, Saramaya, and Naomi decided to call their parents.

Though they hadn’t taken advantage of it over the past five days, they were still easily within comms reach of Federation Headquarters, and the cadets especially wanted to share the news of what they’d seen with their parents.

Saramaya was the first to go onto the bridge where DeLuca was flying, while Naomi cleaned up their dinner and Satel vanished into the research lab to toy with a couple pieces of tech that he’d been gifted while on Zinte.

When she was done cleaning up, Naomi made her way to the bridge, asking Petty Officer DeLuca, “Do you want to open a channel with someone next, once Saramaya’s done talking to her parents?”

“No. I’d rather just replicate my dinner and go to bed, if you want to take a shift at the panel?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Petty Officer DeLuca beat a nearly hasty path off the bridge as Naomi settled into the helmsman’s chair and Saramaya bid her family goodnight for the evening. “Would you like to take your turn now?” Saramaya asked, turning to her.

“I’ll go last, but you can let Satel know he’s free to call home if he would like. He’s in the research bay.”

Saramaya nodded. “I’ll tell him, and then go to bed, I think. If you don’t need anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. Good night.”

Saramaya smiled kindly. “Good night, Ensign Wildman.”

Then she left for the evening, and a few minutes later Satel came in, opening a channel to his parents. Naomi was lulled to a state that was almost _too_ relaxed as she listened to the steady cadence of their conversation if not the words they were actually saying, so much so that she almost missed the anomaly that came up on her sensors.

“What the hell?” she breathed, watching the anomaly flicker onto her screen for a three-second interval, then out for nearly half a minute before coming back again in the same pattern. On the second interval, she realized what it was that she was looking at.

She tensed, jaw clenching as she began to try to turn the ship around, or to at least get it far enough off course that it wouldn’t run into the wormhole they were approaching. But the wormhole wasn’t moving towards them, she realized when the ship shuddered. There was a magnetic field to this thing, _pulling_ the ship towards _it_. She had seven seconds before the wormhole came back, if she was timing this correctly, and the ship just wasn’t moving fast enough to get out of the way.

She tapped the comm badge on her chest that she hadn’t yet been in enough of a hurry to use, saying, “Brace for impact!”

Satel jerked as if he’d been slapped, but he obeyed her, beginning to ask, “What’s the m—”

He gasped in pain before he could even finish the question.

The next twenty-seven seconds were like the longest, most painful beaming up that Naomi had ever experienced. Things were floating freely in the air between herself and Satel, including pieces of the weapons and navigation panels – all part of the strange gravitational pull they’d entered into.

Then, just as quickly as the pain began, it ended.

Naomi fell very ungracefully back into the chair that she’d floated out of, and at the weapons panel Satel did the same. The connection to his parents had been lost, Naomi noted as her gaze darted back to the navigation screens.

“What the _hell_?” she repeated. She was looking at a completely different map – completely different surroundings – than she had been a half-minute ago.

“What was that?” Satel asked, spinning in his chair to face the weapons panel, scanning it and the sky outside to see if there was anything he needed to fire at.

Petty Officer DeLuca stormed onto the bridge before Naomi could give Satel an answer, and Saramaya was staggering, breathless behind him. “ _What_ just happened?”

“We went through a gravitational wormhole,” Naomi said shortly, beginning to take stock of the meaning behind all the beeps and warnings going off. “We were suspended for twenty-seven seconds. Everything destabilized, and when the wormhole spit us back out, the ship stabilized a little… haphazardly. Is everyone alright?”

“Yes,” Satel said as Saramaya nodded.

Petty Officer DeLuca said, “Fine.”

“Good.” Naomi stood from the navigation panel. “Petty officer, take over here. Satel, we’re headed to engineering; the engine is cracked, and things are literally on fire there. Saramaya, comb the rest of the ship, see if there’s anything that needs fixed that our sensors aren’t picking up. If you can’t handle anything you find on your own, don’t try to; we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Who put you in charge?” Petty Officer DeLuca groused, taking the seat Naomi had vacated.

“The specifications for this mission, petty officer,” Naomi said shortly.

She was halfway off the bridge with Satel at her side when Petty Officer DeLuca said dazedly, “Have you given these maps a good look yet?”

 _So, he’d noticed the same thing she had._ “We can discuss it once our engine is fully operational again.”

“I think we should discuss it now!”

“And run the risk of our engine completely failing in the mean time?” Naomi asked, drawing a deep breath so she didn’t give into the panic that wanted to claw at her chest. _She was a Star Fleet officer; she could handle this, and she could_ certainly _handle a mouthy, demoted petty officer._ “We will discuss it _later_. Right now, just make sure there’s nothing else going to jump out and surprise us.”

She turned on her heel and led Satel to the engine room. Her first order of business upon arrival was to find the unhinged fire extinguisher and use it on the frayed chords that had caught fire. Content that she had that aspect of this mess under control, Satel located the lone toolbox on their ship and started poking around the engine.

“Ensign Wildman,” he asked when the were settled onto the floor, her on her back staring up into the engine, and him kneeling on the opposite side of the engine, sealing more minor cracks. “Where are we? That is, where did the wormhole deposit us?”

“We’re still in the Alpha Quadrant, Satel, we’ll be fine.”

She was only certain of half of that statement, but there was no need to tell him that.

“Yes, but… where are we? What’s the nearest planet?”

“To be honest, I didn’t check before I left the bridge. I was more concerned with the fire and damage here.”

Satel was smart as a whip; he knew she was being evasive. “Are we anywhere near Zinte?”

“Not precisely.” Naomi wiggled out of her hole and sat up, set aside her tools, and sealed the hatch on the repaired engine. “But Petty Officer DeLuca and I are the navigators here; we’ll worry about that.”

“Will we have enough replicator rations to get us back to earth?” Satel persisted. “Or enough power overall – to run life support systems, and the replicator, and the lighting – and we have no medicine beyond the bare minimum, or—”

“Cadet.” Naomi moved fluidly to her feet, reaching out a hand to pull Satel up with her. As closely as a Vulcan could, it was becoming clear that he was nearing panic, his breathing strangely shallow. She put a hand on his shoulder, promising, “We will find a way to manage.” She squeezed his shoulder, then dropped her hand, adding, “For now, it’s enough that we’re going to remain afloat and not go up in flames. Saramaya’s cleaning up some chemical spills in the research lab. Could you go help her while I check in with Petty Officer DeLuca? But stay alert, I may need you to help me with further repairs.”

“Certainly.”

They set aside the tools they’d been using, and Naomi left him in the research bay – the room in the most disarray – as she continued to the bridge. “I want no more bad news,” she said irritably by way of entrance.

“I am truly sorry to disappoint, Ms. Wildman,” the petty officer said. “But our shields are down at the moment; I’ve put us on autopilot, and I’ve been working on getting the shields at least operational, for if they’re needed. The bigger problem, as long as we’re still on the subject of repairs only, is that when the wormhole… what were your words, spat us out haphazardly – a number of our hull plates were repositioned… well, haphazardly. They’re like broken shingles in the wind out there, and soon—”

Naomi bit back a sigh, talking over him. “—The lack of protection will lead to internal cracking, and eventually holes straight out to open space in our walls.”

“Someone will have to go out and manually repair them.”

“I’ll have to do it. I’ll grab my tools on the way back through to the exit hatch.”

“Is there even a space suit in this ship?” DeLuca asked cautiously.

“I sincerely hope so, otherwise I’m going to have to do far more jerry-rigging than I am prepared for this evening. Now, where am I going to be looking for these disconnected plates?”

“On the left side of the ship, the exterior to your quarters, the mess hall, and the research bay. The force caused by the speed of the gravitational pull exploited a microfracture that already existed and tore through the middle of seven plates on that area of the hull. And it’s technically this morning,” Petty Officer DeLuca corrected, blinking as if to clear his vision. “It is currently 12:23 a.m. – and we have yet to discuss the biggest problem of all that we’re facing.”

“And which problem might that be, petty officer?” Naomi asked, already heading back to engineering. She didn’t say that she could easily think of three issues that might fall under that category.

* * *

There was, thank the gods, a spacesuit in the storage area, and Naomi repaired the outside of the hull with as little difficulty as an engineering ensign could at one in the morning in a clunky spacesuit. _It was better than not having one, though_ , she remined herself as she stripped out of the gear and ducked into engineering, just to check that everything was still running as smoothly as it needed to.

She tapped her comms badge, saying, “I’m back inside, petty officer. What’s next on the to-do list?”

Naomi was not expecting Saramaya to answer over the comms instead of DeLuca, saying tensely, “Ensign Wildman to research bay! _Now_!”

She ran down the hall from engineering to the research bay, demanding over her comm badge, “Saramaya, what’s the matter?”

“Satel just—collapsed.”

Naomi felt like she’d gotten the wind punched out of her as she skidded to a stop in the research bay, landing on her knees on the other side of Satel from where Saramaya was crouched.

“He’s not breathing right;” Saramaya said, something that Naomi had noticed earlier, but only passed off as his nerves. “I believe there is something wrong with his lungs.”

“Don’t move him; I’ll get a scanner and come back,” Naomi ordered.

She was running again before she’d even drawn in a full breath, skidding into sick bay, gaze darting around until she spotted a medical scanner. She snatched it up and ran back to the research lab, schooling her features into a calmer expression before she came into Saramaya’s line of sight. She knelt again, scanning Satel’s body.

“One of his lungs fell out of alignment with the other when he re-stabilized after going through the wormhole,” she deduced, looking at the results of the scan.

Saramaya reached for the scanner and took a closer look at the readings when Naomi handed it to her. “He passed out from lack of oxygen. One of his bronchial tubes did not connect properly to his lung, and air is leaking out into his body rather than being filtered through his lung; he had to be in immense amounts of pain this whole time, there is no possibility he didn’t feel that something was amiss. But I believe I can fix it. We have to move him to sick bay; I think I have an idea.”

Now that they knew he was safe to move, Naomi took one of his arms and flung it over her shoulder while Saramaya did the same. They dragged him, but Satel ended up on the examination table where Saramaya needed him. The Ocampa strode quickly around the disorganized sick bay – she hadn’t made it here to reorganize what had been thrown around – attaching a ventilator and even a couple of tubes to Satel.

_Was she preparing him for surgery?!_

“Is there any chance that we have a handheld beaming device aboard this ship?” Saramaya asked, taking a calming breath now that Satel’s life was semi-safely being sustained by machines.

“Computer,” Naomi asked, “Is there a handheld beaming device onboard?”

“Negative,” the automated voice replied.

Saramaya pursed her lips, turning to Satel as she admitted, “I knew that was a longshot.”

“Maybe I could make one with parts of machines we do have?” Naomi suggested.

Saramaya shook her head. “His lung is disconnected, like a leaf withering once it falls from a tree; he doesn’t have enough time for you to build something before the lung becomes useless.” She whirled to Naomi, realizing what should’ve been obvious. “We can replicate the handheld, though!”

Naomi was ashamed to realize that she hesitated at the idea – she had begun life far too used to considering replicator rations, and the thought came to mind a little too easily now – but she nodded and ran into the mess hall where the ship’s only replicator was housed.

“One handheld beaming device,” she demanded.

Naomi was on her way back to Saramaya with the device in hand when she realized that she didn’t even know what the Ocampa wanted it for. Whatever it was, she hoped that Saramaya’s plan worked.

Saramaya nodded her thanks, but didn’t explain, when Naomi handed her the device. Instead, Naomi watched in silence as uncertainty flashed momentarily through Saramaya’s gaze before she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, all while entering specifications into the device. While Naomi had been in the mess hall, Saramaya had laid a pan out on the edge of the examination bed, and now something materialized into that pan while the women watched.

Naomi gaped. “Is that his lung?”

“Yes,” Saramaya replied distractedly, still clearly concentrating on her work. “It was removed no differently than how you were removed from your mother’s womb. Putting the lung back in exactly the right place is going to be the difficult part.”

Naomi took the very polite request for silence for what it was, and remained quiet and still, watching Saramaya enter specs onto the beaming device. Saramaya slowed down, working with the caution of someone who was in unfamiliar territory. Naomi bit back against asking her if she was okay. Saramaya had more medical training than Naomi, given her course of study; she was Satel’s best shot, cadet or not.

After a minute of silence, the lung beamed off the tray, back, Naomi assumed, into Satel’s body. Saramaya sat down the beaming device and picked up the medical scanner, moving it carefully over Satel.

“He’s fine now,” Saramaya said faintly, her free hand gripping the edge of the examination table.

“Are you?” Naomi asked, taking a step closer to Saramaya with hands outstretched if she needed to catch her, should she stumble or fall.

Saramaya nodded. “If that hadn’t worked, though, he would’ve—”

“But it did work,” Naomi said firmly, cutting her off when she realized what Saramaya was going to say.

“We don’t know that yet,” Saramaya admitted. “His body will react as if his lung has been transplanted into his body. There is a small chance it will reject the lung.”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Naomi said, quiet but doing her best to sound confident. “What else can we do for him?”

Saramaya shook her head, turning down the airflow on the ventilator. “Someone just needs to monitor him until he wakes. I’ll stay.”

Naomi nodded. “Use your comms to let me know if anything changes. The ship is stable now, so I should be able to continue the cleanup you were doing.”

Saramaya worried at her lip, muttering, “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to… put us back together again.”

“Don’t be,” Naomi objected. “You’re exactly where you need to be, in this sick bay right now. As long as we’re on this ship, you’re our doctor now, you know.”

Saramaya gaped at her, before narrowing her eyes as the same questions that Satel had asked Naomi began to swirl in her eyes. “If I’ve been promoted to doctor,” she asked carefully after a beat. “Does that mean that you’ve been promoted to captain?”

The idea settled heavily across Naomi’s shoulders and in the pit of her stomach. “If that’s what the majority of us would like, yes.”

Saramaya looked more worried than ever, but she managed a hesitant smile, saying, “For what it may be worth, you have my vote.”

“Thanks,” Naomi said with a soft chuckle that she couldn’t put any real feeling behind. She walked out and back to the research bay before Saramaya could ask anymore questions. As the senior officers on the vessel, she thought it would be better to talk things through with Petty Officer DeLuca before anything was said to Satel or Saramaya.

She scrubbed her eyes free of grit as she walked along the corridor to the bridge. Resisting the urge to slouch over the back of the helmsman’s chair – or just drop into the seat at the weapons’ panel – she asked Petty Officer DeLuca from the doorway, “Are the sensors picking up anything else that needs repaired?”

“No.”

“Well then, either I can go finish Saramaya’s cleanup in the research bay, or I can take the helm so you can go get some sleep.”

“I am not going to sleep,” DeLuca replied levelly. ‘Until we have a plan for some things.”

 _In that case…_ Naomi sat at the weapons’ panel with an impassive expression. “Okay.”

DeLuca looked at her for a very long moment, considering her before he said, “Before… I was made a petty officer, I was nearly to the rank of lieutenant. I have more… work experience than you.”

“And?” Naomi asked with raised eyebrows, even though she knew very well what he was angling after. “I outrank you here and now. You’ve already proven you’ve got no problem disregarding Star Fleet protocol. Why should I, or the cadets, trust you to lead now?”

DeLuca glanced away, his irritation clear as he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is that how the cadets feel, too?”

“I know Saramaya does, yes.”

“And Satel?”

“Satel is currently in sick bay, unconscious.”

“What?” It was DeLuca’s turn to look at her with upraised eyebrows. “Why?”

Realizing he had been at the helm the whole time, and unaware of the medical emergency, Naomi relayed the story to him.

“So, he’ll live?” DeLuca asked cautiously.

Naomi nodded. “According to Cadet Saramaya, yes, as long as the lung is accepted by his body.”

“Which it should be because it’s _his_ lung, right?”

“That’s the theory, yes.”

“So.” Naomi saw his thoughts turn away from Satel back to the conversation he’d expected to have. “He will survive a… let’s call it an operation. If you’re supposed to be out captain, how do you intend to keep him – and the rest of us – alive for…” he gestured to the navigation panel. “The rest of this, hey, _captain_?”

The flash of anger at his belligerence that Naomi felt overpowered the worry that punched her in the stomach as she began to realize the responsibility she now carried on her shoulders. She managed to give DeLuca an unimpressed look as she leaned back in the chair she was using. “When everything settles, I’m going to see if I can repurpose some of the equipment in the research bay into an aeroponics bay. We can land for a day on a planet, purchase seeds and food, and that will keep us from starving while also greatly expanding how long our energy reserves will last.”

DeLuca’s expression twitched, and he appeared to be reconsidering his opinion of her. “That’s… not a bad plan to have come up with already.”

Internally relaxing a little, Naomi carefully smiled at DeLuca. “I started life on the starship Voyager, if you didn’t know, that means I was used to things like an aeroponics bay and replicator rations.”

“Okay, so there’s hope if we need a long-range plan. I’ve been working on a couple short-range things.” He turned in his chair to face the navigation panel, and Naomi stood to look over his shoulder from behind the chair. “I’ve almost got long-range comms back up and running, which is good news.”

“I noticed those went out,” she remarked.

“M-hm. Satel was talking to his parents then, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. They must be worried sick now.”

DeLuca paused before glancing back at her to ask, “Would you prefer I contacted Satel’s parents before I attempt to contact Star Fleet… sir?”

It was DeLuca’s respect, and not the actual question that gave her pause before she replied, “No. We need to follow protocol, but it would also be unfair to give his parents incomplete information, especially given his,” she hesitated. “Condition.”

DeLuca gave her a half-hearted shrug. Apparently, respect was something that he could switch off and on. He turned his attention back to the navigational panel again, asking, “How’s this for information?” as he pulled up a course the computer had mapped.

The course home, back to earth, specifically to Star Fleet Academy.

A headache blossomed with sudden ferocity behind Naomi’s eyes and through her forehead. “Is there any way to shorten it?”

“I’ve been too busy with the comms to check yet.” Naomi nodded as he tapped a few more buttons on the panel after shutting down his map. He slowly said as he worked, “But I can check… now… that the comms are fixed.”

Before he had a chance to, though, the panel beeped with a familiar noise, once, then twice.

“We’re being hailed by both Star Fleet and Satel’s parents.”

“Put Star Fleet onscreen, please and thanks.”

DeLuca gave her a quick glance of surprise before he murmured, “Aye, sir.”

He wasn’t taking her seriously yet, but he was now apparently willing to at least think about doing so, and by now Naomi got the impression that was progress in and of itself with the petty officer.

She was relieved to think that they might be headed for a future where he didn’t second-guess her every decision.

Naomi was even more relieved to see the familiar face that came up onscreen. “Tuvok!” She gripped the back of the helmsman’s chair to keep herself steady as she fought to keep her relief from showing too freely on her face.

Over the screen, Tuvok glanced from her face to DeLuca’s, then back to her with only a line between his eyebrows to show his concern. “Ensign Wildman, our sensors show you’ve… altered course.”

Naomi frowned, admitting, “That’s a bit of an understatement, unfortunately. I’m afraid I got us pulled into a wormhole… that’s deposited us three years from our destination.”

“We can see that,” Tuvok reminded her mildly before asking, “What do you mean _you_ ‘got your ship pulled into a wormhole?’”

Naomi shrugged. “I was at the helm, I hesitated, it’s my fault we’re here.”

“I think you should return to the helm,” Tuvok said suddenly.

“I beg your pardon, commander?” Naomi asked in confusion.

Tuvok turned to DeLuca for a second. “You’re dismissed, petty officer.”

DeLuca had the good sense not to roll his eyes at a Starfleet instructor as he took his leave.

As Naomi took the helm, Tuvok asked, “You understand that you are the senior officer in charge aboard the vessel?”

She didn’t tell him how nervous the idea made her. What good would it do when nothing could be done to change it. “Aye, sir.”

“Naomi Wildman,” her childhood teacher spoke almost kindly. “Chin up.”

“I know, I—”

“No, I mean it literally. The way you hold yourself is important, so hold yourself with confidence.” Naomi lifted her chin as Tuvok asked, “Is your ship on autopilot?”

“No, sir.”

“Put it on autopilot and stand.” Naomi obeyed before he continued, “Now, put your hands on your hips.” Naomi gave him a confused look, and he explained, “It’s been scientifically proven to help human confidence levels.”

“I believe it,” Naomi admitted with a small smile, putting her hands on her hips, and thinking of Admiral Janeway.

“Now, listen carefully. I understand you’re probably afraid, but there’s no place for it here. No room for it, and no call for it. You’re still in the Alpha Quadrant. We’re still on the other end of a channel. It’s just like any other deep space mission; it just comes with an early captaincy, that’s all. Don’t be afraid of it, embrace it.”

“Thanks, Tuvok,” Naomi replied with a smile.

“And _Acting Captain_ Wildman?”

“Yes?” Naomi asked hesitantly.

“Don’t forget that some of Starfleet’s best and brightest have full faith in you. Myself included.”

Now Naomi felt real confidence starting to blossom in her chest as she murmured, “Thank you, Tuvok.”

* * *

“Na-ooomi…”

Someone was shaking Naomi’s arm off of her hip, and she didn’t appreciate it. She rolled over in bed as her mom insisted kindly, “It’s time for you to get up, sweetheart.”

Naomi scrubbed the grit from her eyes as she sat up, looking around her familiar bedroom aboard _Voyager_ , at her six-year-old self in her mirror. “I just had the strangest dream,” she declared. “I wish you’d let me see what happened next.”

Her mom grinned as she tugged Naomi onto her feet. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you have school soon, and we both know Commander Tuvok doesn’t like it when you’re late. Maybe you can tell me about your dream over breakfast if you hurry?”

Naomi nodded agreeably and turned to make her bed. “Okay!”


End file.
